Summary

It was surprising how easily your mind accepted things, Newt decided. It was so desperate to understand and make sense of input around it that it accepted even the most tenuous of explanations in lieu of actual observation.

Newt was a scientist. He was supposed to be better than this.

He reached out, prodding at what little tendrils remained of a drift. It cracked instantly, bathing him in blue light and gracing him with the terrifying view of one of them. "Precursors..." he breathed, horrified.